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•• ‘UNTO YOU, MY SON, I WILL BEQUEATH ALL MY WEALTH, AND MY VAST ESTATE* " 


!■ 

■ ■ 


■ 

Blocks With Which 
We Build 

■ 


BY 

ETHEL DANA CONSTABLE 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

DOROTHY DULIN 


■ 

A. FLANAGAN COMPANY 

CHICAGO 

■ 


■ ■ 

111 



COPYRIGHT, 1914 
By 

A. FLANAGAN COMPANY 


> 


< ( ♦ 


FEB 24 1914 

©CIA3691 20 

t-U) i 


CONTENTS 


The Enchanted Island, 7 

Our Fortress, ----- 15 

The Model Picture, - - - - 18 

“We Build the Ladder by Which We Rise,’* - 29 

The Priceless Treasure, 34 

A Procession, - - - - - - 48 

Life’s Garden, ----- 52 

The Mysterious Cave, - - - - 62 

The Magic Spectacles, - - - - 70 

The Wonderful Magnet, - - - - 79 

Our Companion, - - - - - 87 

The Rainbow Myth, 89 

The Web We Weave, - - - - 98 

A Thought, - - - - 103 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGES 

“ ‘Unto You, My Son, I Will Bequeath All My 

Wealth, and My Vast Estate’ ” - Frontispiece 

“A Venerable, Hoary-headed Old Man Appeared 

on the Threshold” - - - 20 

“Pointing to the West, the Fairy said: ‘This, 

Rita, is the Path’ ” - - 38 

“The Little Elf Guided Her to the Door” - 55 

“She Gazed Long and Earnestly into the Big 

Blue Eyes of the Little Fellow” - 73 

“Hand in Hand Danced the Little Sprites Before 

Him” 93 


THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 


S EATED alone in the twilight, listening to 
the distant voices of the children at play, 
my thoughts go out to the day, not so far 
distant, when they will occupy the posts of honor 
now filled by those who shall have passed on in 
life’s endless procession, and I wonder if I am 
adding my mite toward bending the twigs in 
the right direction. 

Full of my own thoughts, I do not heed the 
approach of the little ones till they have gathered 
about my knee and importuned “Auntie” for one 
of her twilight stories. Being requested to make 
this a fairy tale, I begin: 

Once upon a time there was a fearful storm 
away out upon the ocean, many, many miles away 
from our shores. In the midst of this storm was 
a vessel, tossed upon the great waves as a feather 
is tossed about in the air. Her greatest efforts to 
withstand the storm seemed fruitless. When it 
became evident that all attempts to regain the 
shore were useless, the crew and all on board, took 
to the lifeboats; but, being unable to battle 


8 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


against such a storm, only one of these ever 
touched land. 

In this boat were two young men who had left 
their homes in search of adventure. 

The night was very dark, and you may well 
imagine their feelings when they discovered that 
the great waves had subsided and left them upon 
land. These two young men were strangers to 
each other, but, as trouble or disaster brings 
people very near together, they were not long in 
finding out that one was named “Care,” and the 
other “Heedless.” 

They were so bewildered by the novelty of this 
new situation that they knew not what to do, and 
decided to wait till daylight to find out where 
they were. Just then, to their great surprise, a 
light appeared in the distance and kept growing 
brighter and brighter, until it fairly dazzled their 
eyes. At last they saw that it was an exceedingly 
beautiful little fairy, attended by several little 
creatures of the Pixie family, each bearing a 
brilliant torch. 

The fairy approached the young men, and 
spoke to them in a pleasant, low voice, telling 
them they had nothing to fear. 

i( Do not be alarmed ,” said the fairy, “ you are on 
an enchanted island . The King is a good old 
man, and I am his messenger to all strangers who 


THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 


9 


enter his dominions. But the King is growing 
old, and he can not die in peace because he has no 
son to inherit his vast estate. Other adventurers 
have been cast upon this island, and to all he 
makes the same kindly proposition. It is this: 
You will see by the light of day that the island is 
strewn with building materials of all kinds, and 
the King requires each one who is cast upon this 
island to erect a building by his own efforts. If 
one refuses to build, he is cast again into the sea. 
So all who live upon this island are builders. Each 
is allowed to use the material which pleases him 
best. Near you may be seen bricks of clay, 
stones, lumber, mortar, and plenty of hammers 
and nails; and just over the hill yonder are bricks 
of gold and silver. So, by careful searching, 
material may be found for as beautiful and costly 
a structure as one may desire: the only condition 
being that the work be done by the individual 
alone. While one is building he is clothed and 
fed at the King’s expense; and when he finishes, 
he has the house as his own, until the day the 
King has appointed to test the buildings. 

“Many are at work on the island; some have 
completed their buildings, and are now waiting. 
Others are only beginning. Once cast among 
us, you see you have no choice but to build. But 
I have not told you of the reward offered by the 


10 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


King. As I said, the buildings are to be tested 
in any manner that the King may choose, and the 
one whose building stands the test, will be made 
heir to all the King’s vast estate, and at his death 
will become ruler of the island.” 

After saying this the fairy disappeared, leaving 
the young men even more puzzled than before. 

At length, being very weary, they fell asleep 
and slept till the sun was high in the heavens. 
After talking over all that had happened, they 
remembered the words of the fairy, and began 
looking around. True enough, all about them 
was building material of every kind, and the sound 
of busy hammers filled the air. Crowds of people 
were hurrying here and there in search of some- 
thing needed to put in their houses. All seemed 
eager to build of the best, and yet but few had 
the courage to climb that hill for the gold and 
silver bricks that lay on the other side. 

After watching the builders for awhile, these 
young men became eager to begin buildings of 
their own; so each chose a pleasant spot, suited to 
his taste, and began to lay the foundation of his 
edifice. They worked and toiled for many a long 
day, and by examination and criticism of their 
neighbors’ houses, were able to avoid many 
mistakes. 

Care had found his way over the hill to the gold 


THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 


11 


and silver bricks, and had put nothing but these 
into his house from the very first. “But it is far 
too much trouble,” said Heedless; “many beauti- 
ful houses have been built of bricks of clay, and 
I shall take my material from what is near at 
hand.” So each worked on in his own way, and 
after his own plan. 

Of course it was many weeks, months, and even 
years , before their houses were completed. But 
all things must have an end; so one beautiful day 
in June, Care announced to his friend that he 
would lay the last brick upon his house that day. 
“And I,” said Heedless, “will also finish to-day, 
for I have been keeping watch that I might finish 
as soon as yourself.” 

So at night, as they were seated on the beach 
watching the little waves that now came so calmly 
in, and wondering what the result of their labors 
would be, the fairy again appeared. This time she 
held a book in her hand, and appeared to be read- 
ing. On reaching the spot where the two friends 
sat, she stopped and read to them from her book 
that the following day had been appointed by 
the King as the day for the great test of the 
buildings, and that a grand feast was being pre- 
pared for the one who should be proclaimed the 
King’s heir. 

That this was a night of excitement for Care 


1 2 BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 

and Heedless, you can readily imagine; and 
with sleepless eyes they eagerly watched for the 
dawn. Then, just as the sun rose on the horizon 
the loud blast of a trumpet was heard, calling the 
people of the island together. 

The King was seated upon his throne, sur- 
rounded by his court of wise men. These men 
were chosen by the King to examine each build- 
ing from its foundation. Nothing was overlooked. 
Each wise man carried a long tablet and a pencil 
and every flaw or weak place in a building was to 
be noted on this tablet under the name of the 
owner of the building. At the close of the inspec- 
tion, they were to return and deliver their tablets 
to the King, who would, from their records, 
announce his successor. 

The wise men went forth upon their wondrous 
tasks, and as they were many, each took a build- 
ing under his special inspection. Every corner, 
every weakness, every fault was brought to light. 
Nothing was spared or overlooked. 

Just as the sun was sinking in the west, the wise 
men returned to the King’s palace with their re- 
ports. The King received the tablets in silence, 
and retired to look them over carefully. After a 
long and weary waiting on the part of the people, 
the King came into their midst and called loudly 
for Care. Although he was somewhat confused 


THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 


13 


at being made so very conspicuous, our friend 
approached the King, and what was his astonish- 
ment to hear the King say in a loud, clear voice, 
“Unto you, my son, I will bequeath all my wealth 
and my vast estate. You have proved yourself 
entirely worthy. You have built for yourself a 
noble building, a character that is without flaw 
or blemish, and, as the rare possessor of such, you 
will honor the wealth bestowed upon you, and use 
it as may seem best to your own good judgment.” 

MORAL 

Does not the foregoing story teach us, my dear 
children, that we are all builders? We are placed 
here upon this earth, not because we choose to 
come, but here we are. Around us is strewn the 
material from which we may build our characters. 
Our daily actions are the “bricks with which we 
build;” and with what care should we select the 
gold and silver ones! 

If we follow the plan of Heedless, and take the 
material nearest at hand, we may find plenty of it, 
and always within our reach. But our structures, 
like his, will, in the end, be full of flaws and weak- 
nesses, that will never stand the test of our Great 
King. But if, like Care, we make the exertion 
and go over the hill for the bricks of gold and 
silver, and put no acts of which we should be 


14 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


ashamed into our days, may not we also expect to 
hear the King say to his child, on the Great Day, 
“Well done, good and faithful servant; enter 
thou into the joy of thy Lord.” 


OUR FORTRESS 


If we only knew, dear children, 

When our lives were just begun. 

All the foes we would encounter 
Long before Life’s work was done, 

We would build our fortress stronger. 
Make our ramparts more complete, 
That when struggling for a vict’ry 
We might never know defeat. 

If in laying our foundations , 

We'd select the stones with care. 

We might each erect a building 
To be proud of anywhere; 

But if only one stone crumbles. 

Or has slightly been misplaced. 

The whole structure is in danger 
And our building is defaced. 

We may counsel with our elders 
In the making of our plans, 

But remember that our building 
On its own foundation stands. 

Though our friends may wish to help us. 
Yet our own the work must be; 

For our structure will be tested 
By all Eternity. 


15 


16 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


Architect and plan deviser 

Long has passed beyond our sight; 
But He left us plain instructions 
How to build, and build aright. 

He will even send us helpers 
To assist when we are weak, 

If, when strength begins to fail us. 
We this aid will truly seek. 


Words and deeds are stones we’re using, 
And the mortar is our thought; 

Stone by stone we’re laying daily. 

Each on its appointed spot. 

We must hew, and cut, and polish. 

And select each stone with care. 

For to make the choicest buildings 
We are taught no pains to spare. 


Solid rock must be our corners, 
Firmly grounded at the base; 

Faith, and Hope, and Love around it, 
Their stones, too, will surely place. 
And Humanity will bring us 
All the choicest from her mine, 
While her fairest daughter. Virtue, 
There will plant a clinging vine. 


OUR FORTRESS 


17 


Charity, Good-will, and Patience, 
Truth and Cheerfulness will come 
To the walls to add materials. 

And to help to make them plumb; 
While Strong Will and Perseverance 
Will be needed ev’ry hour; 

For the stones are hard to handle. 
And alone we have no power. 


We must make an earnest effort. 
Study carefully our plan. 

And must follow its directions 
Just as nearly as we can; 

Let discouragements that meet us. 
Come they in whatever guise, 
Never keep our walls from growing 
Till the turrets reach the skies. 


Then, when we lock fast our building 
And deliver up the key. 

If to our work we’ve been faithful, 
Then each one shall truly see 
All the value of the structure; 

For to us will have been given 
Noble characters on this earth. 

And a happy home in Heaven . 


THE MODEL PICTURE 


T WO little children had been playing all 
day on the outskirts of a deep and mys- 
terious forest, into which they had been 
forbidden to enter. Being filled with curiosity 
to know what might be hidden in that dark and 
mysterious wonderland, it was the subject upon 
which they most frequently talked. The more 
they talked about it, the more eager they were 
to explore this great forest and learn what secrets 
its dense foliage concealed. 

After much discussion, and many doubts ex- 
pressed as to the probability of their being able 
to come out alive, the boy suggested that they 
put aside all fears and hesitations, and enter the 
forest together, thus settling all the mystery with 
which it was now surrounded. After considering 
the subject for some time the sister consented, 
and the two set forth. 

For some distance the way lay through tangled 
underbrush, and the trees were festooned with 
luxuriant mosses. Here and there a squirrel would 
leap across their path, or a strange growling was 


18 


THE MODEL PICTURE 


19 


heard in the distance, as if they were nearing the 
home of some wild animal. 

But on and on they went, till at last they came 
to a spot that was carpeted with wild flowers. So 
delighted were they with the violets and daisies 
that every fear was forgotten as they filled their 
hands with their treasures. 

As they picked the flowers, they wandered on, 
till before their astonished gaze appeared a most 
beautiful palace of white marble. It seemed to 
have risen by magic as they looked, and so grand 
a building it had never been their fortune to 
behold. 

Seeing no one to alarm them, they approached 
very cautiously. 

“Let us go in,” said the sister, “I do not think 
anything will harm us.” Not wishing his sister 
to appear more brave than himself, the boy 
stepped forward at once. Just at that moment a 
venerable, hoary-headed old man appeared on the 
threshold, leaning upon a golden cane and clad in 
a robe of exquisite fineness. 

“O King,” said the boy, “may we look at this 
beautiful palace? My sister and I will touch 
nothing; we only want to be able to tell our 
friends what wonders there are in this forest.” 

“Child,” said the old gentleman in the kindest 
of voices, “I am not a king. I am only an artist. 



"A VENERABLE HOARY-HEADED OLD MAN APPEARED ON THE THRESHOLD” 



THE MODEL PICTURE 


21 


This is truly a palace, and belongs to a king, but 
he lives in a country many miles from here, and 
his home is a magnificent mansion not built with 
hands. We who live here are his servants, and 
our employment is painting pictures for the fur- 
nishing of his elegant mansion. He compels no 
one to come into his service, but all who are will- 
ing to be instructed put themselves under my 
guidance, and live in this beautiful building while 
they paint. It takes a lifetime to finish such a 
picture as the King will accept, for none but the 
very best are allowed to hang on the walls of his 
mansion. I have never seen it myself, but I have 
heard that the most costly gems are used in its 
frescoes.” 

“Does everyone who paints here expect to hang 
a picture on those walls?” inquired the boy. 

“Of course, each one hopes to do so,” said the 
man, “but only the best pictures will be accepted. 
We are given a perfect picture, which hangs in 
our studio as a model. Not that we paint copies 
of that picture, for we could never hope to do that: 
but each one chooses his own subject; and what- 
ever that subject may be, he may find a perfect 
model of his idea in that picture if he carefully 
and earnestly studies it. If mistakes are made, of 
course we paint them over as best we may; a spot 
once painted black can never be made quite white 


22 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


again, but much can be done to make it lighter. 
And so we paint on, striving to make our pictures 
as beautiful as possible, in the hope that they may 
be chosen to adorn the walls of our King’s man- 
sion. If one’s picture is chosen to hang there, he 
may go himself, and that elegant mansion will 
become his home forever. ” 

“And may we paint, too?” inquired the child. 

“Certainly you may, if you are willing to live 
with us; but you must make this your home, and 
during the hours of work I will be ready to in- 
struct you. There are many students, and some 
have great skill. Others have only ordinary 
ability. But I do not think it is skill that our 
King requires. I think he regards the effort put 
forth in making the picture as of far more value 
than the skill. One may have a natural talent as 
an artist, but that makes no difference in these 
pictures. ” 

“Oh, brother, do let us stay!” urged the girl. 

So, after giving their promise to remain, they 
were shown into a large and brilliantly lighted 
room filled with easels, before each of which was 
seated a painter. This was the working hour, and 
all were busy. At one end of the long hall hung 
a picture that was beyond description. Its beauty 
was so marvelous that it fairly dazzled the eye; 
and yet, strange to say, no two people who gazed 


THE MODEL PICTURE 


23 


upon it saw the same picture. To each one it was 
the type of an image contained somewhere in his 
inmost soul, that he would like to put on canvas 
if he only had the power. It inspired one with a 
feverish desire to paint. 

The children were led before two easels, upon 
which stood two large sheets of canvas, pure and 
white. After they had gazed upon the model 
picture for a long time, their aged companion told 
them that they might begin at once if they wished 
to do so. “I am here to help,” said he, “but I 
never give it unasked. If anyone needs my assist- 
ance, and comes and asks it, I give it gladly, for 
that is my work. But unless asked, I do not 
dictate, for the picture is the true guide, and what 
each one paints must be truly and solely his own 
work. ” 

The children were so fascinated by the great 
model picture that they gazed as if rooted to the 
spot. Finally, as if seized with a sudden inspira- 
tion, they took up their brushes and began painting 
upon the white canvas, each conscious only of 
the picture in his own mind, and his desire to 
portray it upon his canvas. 

After they had been thus engaged for some 
time, a huge bell sounded, and all laid aside their 
brushes. “This,” said the old man, “is the hour 
of rest.” “May we look at the work of the 


24 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


others?” asked the children. “Oh, yes,” said the 
old man, “ our work is always open for inspection. 
It is only the reasons why it is not better , that we 
hide from view.” So being granted such ready 
permission to look at the pictures, the children 
started on a tour of inspection around the great 
hall. Some of the pictures they thought were 
beautiful; some happy looking, and others so 
sad that the tears would involuntarily gather in 
their eyes as they looked. Before one picture 
stood a child, a boy, and being about their own 
age, they ventured to speak to him. His canvas 
was covered with careless splashes from his brush, 
evidently not intended as the beginning of a pic- 
ture. “Why do you put such daubs of paint on 
your canvas?” asked our boy. “Because I can 
see nothing else to put there,” murmured he, “and 
I do not care to paint a picture, anyhow. I am 
not going to try so hard. I would rather have a 
good time; so I just watch the rest work, and 
occasionally throw a little paint on this canvas 
so they will think I am working.” 

The children found there were many just such 
canvases in the hall, and some showed the work 
of grown men and women. Some of the pictures 
were so beautiful it was a rest to the eyes to look 
upon them, and one seemed lost in a sense of 
happiness that he could not understand. But 


THE MODEL PICTURE 


25 


what was most wonderful of all was, that all who 
cared and earnestly tried , painted beautiful pic- 
tures whether they had talent or not. An invisible 
hand seemed guiding theirs, so long as they made 
an honest effort. But those who were careless 
could do no more than the poor boy had done. 

Our little folks were very much in earnest, and 
worked with a zeal and energy that was not sur- 
passed by those of far greater experience, and 
their pictures seemed to grow more and more 
beautiful. One day the little girl seemed weary, 
and as she stood at her work her brother noticed 
how pale and thin she was growing. This weari- 
ness lasted for some days, and finally, at the work 
hour, the boy stood alone at his canvas. As soon 
as he could, he sought his old friend, the artist 
who had admitted them, and asked him for his 
sister. “Why, didn’t you know, my lad?” said 
the old man. “The King sent a beautiful mes- 
senger to us last night while you slept. He 
wanted some of the pictures, so he sent this mes- 
senger, who is a very beautiful and very wise 
fairy, and she visited our halls. She selected some 
pictures that were unfinished, and some that were 
only just begun. They will be finished, by the 
help of the beautiful fairy, before they are hung 
upon the wall. Your sister’s picture was among 
those selected, and she has been carried away in a 


26 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


golden chariot. She could not be allowed even to 
tell you her happiness at being thus chosen, but 
she left word for you to paint, oh, so carefully, so 
that your picture might also be chosen.” 

“The beautiful fairy has been here before. She 
always comes unexpectedly, and we never have 
any idea whose picture may be chosen. If anyone 
thinks he can hide any of the blemishes in his 
picture from her bright eyes, he is sadly mistaken; 
for she can even see the original of his picture in 
one’s own soul: the image he is trying to produce 
upon his canvas. And, in fact, we think it is this 
picture she judges by, though, of course, the 
representation on the canvas helps her to decide.” 

“Oh,” said the boy, “I am glad my sister was 
so fortunate; but may I look around and see what 
other pictures are gone?” 

“Certainly,” said the old artist, and the boy 
once more made a circuit of the great hall. The 
poor boy who had made such frightful work of his 
picture was looking intently at the model. As our 
young friend approached, a smile spread over his 
face, and he said, “Do you know, I have just 
found that there is a beautiful picture there that 
I can copy?" “Why,” said our boy, “it was 
there all the time.” “I do not know how that 
may be,” said he, “but I never saw it before.” 
Happening just then to cast his eyes upon his 


THE MODEL PICTURE 


27 


own canvas, a pained look came over his face. 
“How can I ever paint out these daubs?” said he; 
“I shall never be able to put my picture on this 
canvas. Oh, if I had only looked carefully at the 
model long ago!” “Are you really sorry that 
you put all those splashes upon your canvas?” 
asked our little friend. “Sorry!” said the boy, 
“I would give half my life to wipe them out.” 
“Then you may do it,” said a voice close to his 
side. “Only dip your brush into the vial you 
find at your side, and you will be able to paint 
them out.” No one being visible, the boy thought 
he must be dreaming. But, looking down at his 
side, he saw the vial, and dipping in his brush he 
began in earnest. To his great joy he saw the 
ugly, black spots disappear from his canvas as if 
by magic. Thus encouraged, he painted on for 
days and days, never seeming to tire. When our 
little friend next time visited him, he was sur- 
prised to find upon his canvas one of the grandest 
pictures in the hall, and nearly completed. While 
he was lost in admiration of the picture, these 
words were written above it by some unseen hand : 
“He that o’ercometh, shall all things inherit.” 
“What can be the meaning of all this?” thought 
our young friend. “If this boy can produce such 
a beautiful picture upon his canvas, I, who had no 
such blots to paint out, ought to be able to paint 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


a much finer one. I will let this picture be a 
lesson to me.” 

Returning to his work he began painting with 
a zeal and energy never before felt. His picture 
became more and more beautiful, and every 
new beauty added to the canvas, meant an added 
brightness to his now almost radiant countenance. 
His picture was almost as beautiful as the one he 
saw in the wonderful model. That night as he 
laid aside his brush, he was startled by a bright 
light being thrown upon his work. He dared not 
lift his eyes, for he felt the presence of the fairy, and 
he trembled for fear his picture would not be taken. 
But what was his great joy when he heard a sweet 
and musical voice say, “I am come for you, my 
son; the mansion is ready . 99 The next morning 
as the old artist made his tour of the great hall 
to see whose pictures had been chosen, he found 
the space that had been occupied by our boy 
vacant. Above it were these words, written in 
the purest gold: “Be thou faithful unto death, and 
I will give thee a crown of life.” 


“WE BUILD THE LADDER BY WHICH WE 
RISE” 


L ITTLE Madge sat musing by the parlor 
grate, one cold, frosty winter’s evening. 
Mamma and Auntie had gone to see a sick 
neighbor, and she was left to the companionship 
of “Tom,” the cat, who was winking and blinking 
on one side of the fire-place, apparently contented 
with his share of this world’s good things. But 
Madge was a thinker somewhat beyond her years, 
and to-night she took refuge in the work of her 
own busy little brain. 

Having heard at school that beautiful quotation 
from J. G. Holland’s works, “We Build the Lad- 
der by Which We Rise,” she had not been able 
to get it out of her mind all day. She could not 
quite understand what it meant, but the longer 
she thought about it, the more curious she grew. 
At last, wearied with puzzling her little brain 
about it, she curled herself up in the great arm- 
chair, and was soon deep in the mysteries of 
slumberland. She dreamed that her spirit, on 
being set free from the confines of the body, had, 
with the lightning speed by which spirits travel. 


29 


30 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


been transported to Fairyland, and was trying to 
find out from the gentle little beings what kind of 
ladders little girls could build. “Come with me,” 
said one of the dainty little fairies to the spirit, 
“and I will enable you to see that each human 
being with which the world is peopled, is a builder. 
The ladders are invisible to them, but it is by that 
means they reach the height necessary to take 
them to their home beyond the skies. 

“First, let us go to the home of this little cripple, 
since we are right at the door. See how patiently 
he bears his affliction! What a bright smile he 
has on his face! No one ever passes his way with- 
out receiving a kind word, and he never frets, nor 
makes those around him unhappy because of his 
trouble, but is always cheerful and happy. You 
may plainly see the ladder he is building, if you 
gaze into his eyes. The rounds are made of his 
little kindly deeds. It is all the material he has 
at hand, but he is using it well. No doubt kindly 
hands will be reached out to help him, when he 
has gone to the summit of his ladder. 

“Now let us visit this little girl on the opposite 
side of the street. She has added several rounds 
to her ladder to-day, and I will tell you how she 
did it. She has helped her poor, tired mother 
with her daily work, played with her baby brother, 
and run on many an errand, and made those 


WE BUILD THE LADDER BY WHICH WE RISE 31 


around her glad of her presence. These were the 
materials for her ladder that she found near at 
hand, and even these little daily actions will build 
it far beyond our sight. 

“You will wonder what has made the rounds in 
the ladder of this poor child next door so weak 
and unsteady! Poor child! She mounts round 
by round, steadily, for a few days, and then the 
ill-temper that you may see stamped on her 
features, gets the mastery of her and she falls. I 
am sure you must have heard it said, that one 
never stands still in the march of life — he must 
go either forward or backward. This poor child 
will not entirely lose the rounds she has already 
placed in her ladder, but they become so weak 
and frail that they will not support her. She 
can not stand on them long, and it has been some 
time since she added a new round. Her friends 
hope that the good may at length triumph, and 
she may be able to mount higher, but that time 
alone can tell. 

“Now, we frequently see ambition, avarice, 
pride, and all sorts and kinds of temptations, 
pulling down the rounds of these ladders, and it is 
only by the mastery of these evils that the greatest 
heights may be attained. 

“Perhaps you would like to see ladders that 
have been longer in the process of construction. 


32 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


I will show you one belonging to an older person. 
We will visit a lady who lives at the end of this 
street. She has been mounting her ladder, round 
by round, for a great many years, and I am sure 
when you see her face, you will know that she 
lives upon a higher plane than the average mortal. 
Her daily life has been such that she has been 
able to build very high. Even now she is engaged 
in ministering to the wants of a poor sick woman. 
But there are many who are held back by the 
power of selfishness. I think this one evil spirit 
causes more downfalls than any other. I could 
show you old men who should be near the sum- 
mits of their ladders, who yet stand upon the 
first round because they have failed to overcome 
the power of selfishness. 

“But I must not fail to tell you that when one 
has climbed to the summit of his ladder, and has, 
daily, used all the material placed within his 
reach for the building of his rounds, it will make 
no difference whether his rounds have been made 
of great deeds or small, so that he has used what 
he had to the best advantage. He may safely 
step upon the topmost round and reach forth his 
hands toward the still far-distant skies, feeling 
sure that a hand more powerful than his own will 
be reached down to safely place his foot upon those 
rounds in the ladder which have been completed 


WE BUILD THE LADDER BY WHICH WE RISE 33 


without the aid of his weak, mortal hands, and 
that will lead him to his desired haven.” 

******** 

A ring at the door-bell brought consciousness 
back to little Madge, and full of the spirit of her 
dream, she related it to her Auntie, who had just 
come in. “And now,” said she, “that I under- 
stand, I do believe I fell a few rounds back on my 
ladder to-day when I was so selfish in my play. 
I will watch more closely hereafter, and try to 
see that I mount daily higher; for if I stand still, 
the rounds that have been placed may give way. 
I shall have to keep up good courage, for you 
know ‘we mount to its summit round by round.’ ” 


THE PRICELESS TREASURE 


I MAGINE, my dear children, a poor little 
distressed figure, clad in a faded and ragged 
gown, wearing an old torn sun-bonnet on a 
mass of uncombed, tawny hair, and bearing a 
basket of flowers on her arm, out of which she 
had not sold one, and you will have a pretty fair 
picture of our little Rita, whose strange story I 
am going to tell you. 

Sad and weary Rita looked as she set her basket 
upon a deserted door-step and sank down beside it. 
She could not bear the thought of returning to 
her poor, unhappy companions without one penny 
to help buy their scanty supper, and she knew 
how hungry they would be, for she felt the keen 
pang herself as she sat there gazing away into 
space. She no longer noticed the passers-by. No 
one seemed to care for her flowers to-day, and 
there was no need to offer them again. 

Just as she was feeling the most miserable, she 
was aroused from her reverie by a gentle tap on 
the shoulder, and a voice said: “Come with me, 
little girl.” Rita, long accustomed to hearing 


34 


THE PRICELESS TREASURE 


35 


strangers speak to her, felt no fear at being thus 
addressed. She turned toward the speaker, who 
appeared to be a young woman wrapped closely in 
a long, black cloak, and, seeing nothing to alarm 
her, rose to obey. 

“Come,” again said the figure, “follow me. I 
have good news to tell you.” 

Good news ! and for her ! She thought she must 
be dreaming. However, she saw that she had no 
time to dream, for the young woman was passing 
down the street, and she would lose sight of her in 
the crowd. She picked up her basket and was 
soon at her side. 

“Where are you going?” asked Rita. 

“Do not talk,” said the stranger, “only come.” 

They walked on and on till they left the city 
far behind them, and Rita saw a change come over 
her companion. Once she had looked like a very 
old woman, but now her face seemed almost to 
shine, it was so bright and youthful. 

When they reached a large tree which stood 
alone on a little mound, the figure stopped. No 
one was in sight, and yet Rita felt no fear. Sud- 
denly the figure dropped the long cloak that hung 
loosely over her shoulders , and out stepped a most 
beautiful fairy. “Do not fear, little girl,” she 
said. “ I saw that you were in trouble, and I knew 
that I could help you, for that is my mission on 


36 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


this earth. What would you like most if you 
could have what you wished ?” 

Now is it any wonder that Rita’s one thought 
was for riches? Would we not have thought the 
same? 

“Well,” said the fairy, “that is but a natural 
wish. Much good can be done with riches, but is 
there not something you would rather have than 
money — something you could not buy or sell? 
Think again, but do not tell me your thought; 
there is something that I will help you to get pos- 
session of, and then you may tell me how much 
you think it is worth, and whether you are willing 
to part with it. If you want to obtain this price- 
less treasure, come to me, on this spot, at four 
o’clock tomorrow afternoon and we will begin our 
search. I say search , for this treasure is so costly 
that it is hidden from most eyes. It requires a 
great deal of hard labor to possess it, but I think 
all who once become its owners are of one opinion : 
that they would rather part with life itself than 
to lose it.” 

As Rita was alone in the world, what difference 
did it make to anyone if she gave up her whole 
life to the search for this treasure? After all, she 
might find happiness in the search. Thus she 
reasoned with herself, and when she spoke it was 
to assure the fairy that she would be there at the 


THE PRICELESS TREASURE 


37 


appointed time on the following day. “You are a 
good child,” said the fairy, “and you shall never 
regret your decision.” So saying, she disappeared 
from sight, and Rita trudged wearily back to the 
city. 

As the clock struck four on the afternoon of the 
following day, a little figure might be seen wend- 
ing its way toward the big tree where the fairy had 
stood the day before. As the echo of the last 
stroke died away among the hills, the fairy stood 
on the little mound, and waited for Rita to draw 
near. 

“I knew you would come,” said the fairy. “I 
am so anxious for you to obtain this treasure for 
your own. It lies at a long distance from here, 
and no one but myself can guide you to the spot. 
To reach it, it is necessary to go in a straight line, 
and there will be many things in the path. You 
will find it no light task to remove these obstacles, 
but in order to reach the treasure, you must 
remove them. Anyone who attempts to go around 
them always loses his way, and I can no longer 
help him. 

“There are bands of pixies all along the way. 
They are all my servants, and each band has a 
good commander at its head. If one does his 
work cheerfully and well, these pixie bands are 
always at hand to help him. But if one grows 



“POINTING TO THE WEST, THE FAIRY SAID: ‘THIS, RITA, IS THE PATH/ " 


THE PRICELESS TREASURE 


39 


sullen and feels inclined to give up, they never 
appear. So you see the only way is to do all you 
can, and do it cheerfully, and the end will surely 
be reached. Many, many people start out on this 
path, and very few have the courage to keep on to 
the end. There are numerous paths, and all are 
straight, but each has its obstacles.” 

Upon hearing all this, Rita’s heart almost failed 
her, but being a brave little girl, she thought she 
could but try. Pointing to the west, the fairy 
said: “This, Rita, is the path. Do not allow your- 
self to go either to the right or to the left. Here 
is a compass that will serve you as a guide, and 
remember the conditions upon which you will 
receive help from the pixies.” 

As she said this the fairy disappeared, and Rita 
would almost have thought it a dream, had she 
not held the little compass in her hand. The sun 
was beginning to sink behind the hills, and to 
Rita it seemed that she was traveling toward it, 
as she watched the brilliant beams that made the 
hill-tops golden with their touch. For the first 
few hours she enjoyed her journey very much. 
Nothing seemed to be in the way, and only the 
thought of the treasure was in her mind. 

But as night came on, she sought shelter under 
a huge oak tree that grew by her path. And 
strange to say, there, under the tree, stood a 


40 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


basket, covered with a dainty napkin bearing her 
name. By this time she was surprised at nothing, 
and she gladly satisfied her hunger with its con- 
tents, and curled herself down upon the moss to 
enjoy a comfortable sleep. It was not the first 
time poor Rita had slept under the stars, and she 
had nothing to fear. 

When she awoke in the morning, she was fresh 
and bright and ready for her day’s journey. 
Consulting her compass, she kept on her west- 
ward course until noon, when towering up before 
her, and directly in her pathway, appeared a large 
frame building. Oh, what should she do! How 
should she ever remove this from her path? She 
gazed at the building in utter despair, when sud- 
denly the words of the fairy came to her: “Do all 
you can, and do it cheerfully.” “Well,” thought 
she, “ I will do all I can. I see the house is vacant; 
I will begin by tearing off these old boards.” 

No sooner had she touched the boards than she 
heard a rushing sound like the wind, and a band 
of pixies stood before her. “My name is Deter- 
mination,” said their leader; “this is my band. 
We are come to help you remove this building 
from your path. Had you not gone to work so 
readily, we never could have reached you.” So 
all hands fell to work with a will, and in less than 
an hour the path was cleared. Not a vestige of 


THE PRICELESS TREASURE 


41 


the house remained, and with it the pixies had 
also vanished. 

So on and on Rita journeyed, always keeping 
directly west. At night she rested safely by the 
wayside, and for food never failed to find the 
mysterious basket. 

But one day as she was resting, being very weary 
and feeling a little despondent, she suddenly 
looked ahead, and behold ! there stood a mountain, 
with its snow-crowned peak towering up into the 
clouds. Poor child! she felt that this was an 
obstacle she never could remove, and she burst 
into tears. She cried for hours, and to her 
weary eyes the mountain only seemed to grow 
larger. Then at length she remembered the fairy’s 
counsel: “Do all you can, and do it cheerfully.” 

“Why did I not have faith?” thought Rita; “I 
should not have forgotten the advice.” So she 
smilingly dried her eyes, and picking up a few 
stones at the foot of the mountain, threw them 
out of her path. 

At that moment the same rushing sound she 
had once before heard came to her ears, and right 
in front of her stood a small army of pixies. The 
leader stepped forward, saying: “My name is 
Perseverance, and my army of workmen are at 
your service. When you wept, a few moments 
ago, we were far, far away, but as you smiled and 


42 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


began to work, we hastened to assist you. This 
is only play for us.” 

And so it seemed, for in less time than it takes 
to tell it, the mountain was lost to sight, and 
in its place was a beautiful prairie. Rita could 
scarcely believe her eyes, and as she turned to 
thank the pixies she found that they, also, had 
disappeared. 

Thereupon she continued her journey, listening 
to the birds, and occasionally picking a wild flower 
that grew in her path. She wondered if she 
might not be nearing her journey’s end, when, to 
her utter amazement, at her feet flowed a great 
river. Its waters were clear as crystal, and it was 
beautiful to behold. But how should she manage 
to cross it? Hard as the other tasks had been, 
they were as nothing compared to this one. She 
was weary and disheartened, and it seemed to her 
she must fail at last. She blamed everything and 
everybody with her failure, never once remember- 
ing that many before her had met with the same 
obstacles, or others as great, and some had over- 
come them. She grew sullen, and spent hours in 
her unhappy brooding. Rita was very miserable 
indeed as she sat down on the river’s bank, but 
finally the low murmur of the water soothed her 
to sleep. When she awoke it was with a different 
expression on her face. In her dreams the fairy 


THE PRICELESS TREASURE 


43 


had come again, and repeated the words: “Do all 
you can, and do it cheerfully,” and she awoke 
with the sentence on her lips. “ Strange,” thought 
she, “that I have wasted all this time without 
thinking of the good fairy’s advice. I know what 
I can do, and I will begin this minute. I can 
build a raft that will take me to the other side of 
the river. At least I can try.” 

So humming a little air that always came to her 
when she was happy, she found some boards, and 
carrying them to the river, was wondering how 
she could fasten them together, when she heard 
the rushing sound now so familiar, and knew that 
help was at hand. Just at the water’s edge ap- 
peared a small craft, and from it stepped a dozen 
or more little men of the pixie family. Stepping 
up to Rita, the leader of this little band said: “I 
am so glad, Miss, that you called me when you 
did. Had your frettings continued but one hour 
longer, I should have been beyond recall. My 
name is Strong Will. To be honest with you, if I 
am not skilfully handled I prove a very great 
hindrance to people. I do not intend to do them 
harm, but I never consent to take the lead in any- 
thing that I do for them. Guided aright, you will 
find no trustier servant. I never stand at the 
helm, but I furnish the power to propel this craft 
across the river to the opposite bank. Many lives 


44 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


have been lost in this river, but as I tell the same 
story to all, I claim that I am not to blame. You 
must stand at the helm yourself, and if we are not 
guided safely to the other shore, it will then be no 
fault of mine.” 

Rita stepped lightly into the little vessel and 
took her place, and each little pixie did the same. 
Thinking now of the words of the fairy, she deter- 
mined to do her best. They glided swiftly away, 
and in a short time were landed safely on the 
other side. As Rita set her foot upon the land, 
pixies and vessel were lost to view. 

She continued her journey toward the west, and 
at each step she seemed to grow stronger and to 
feel that she must be nearing the end of her 
journey. But one more obstacle awaited her, and 
for a short time seemed to be the hardest to 
remove. Just ahead of her, and directly in her 
path, lay a great lion asleep. She trembled as 
she gazed upon him. Her first inclination was to 
go quietly around without awaking the great 
beast, but she remembered the fairy’s warning 
not to turn aside. 

Rita’s heart stood still within her, and the 
thought that she had so nearly completed her 
journey, so nearly beheld the priceless treasure, 
only to be kept from it at last almost over- 
came her. Not knowing what else to do, she 


THE PRICELESS TREASURE 


45 


whispered softly the names of her three helpers, 
who had given her such valuable assistance. 
“Determination, Perseverance, Strong Will,” 
whispered Rita, and in quick response to her 
call the three little pixies stood before her. “ Can- 
not you aid me to remove this great beast from 
my path?” said Rita. “You have given me 
such help along the way that but for you I must 
have given up this journey. Must I abandon it 
now when I am so near the goal?” 

“We can do much for you,” said they with one 
voice, “indeed, almost anything you may wish, 
but to remove such obstacles as this requires the 
help of our brother Love. Since you have sum- 
moned us to your aid we will bring him, and with 
him as our captain, we can remove many such 
difficulties as this.” 

So saying, they tapped upon the ground, and 
the fourth little pixie stepped forward. At the 
gaze of his mild eyes, even Rita felt compelled to 
do his will without a question. Without fear, he 
stepped up and stroked the lion’s great tawny 
mane with his little hand, speaking kindly to him. 
Immediately the huge beast unclosed his eyes and 
stretched himself, but did not for an instant seem 
to have any desire to harm the little pixie. Get- 
ting up slowly, he gazed about him, and then, 
to Rita’s astonishment, trotted off to the woods. 


46 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


“Now,” said Love, “we will never leave you. 
You have conquered the obstacles that lay in your 
path, and are very near your coveted treasure. 
We will remain with you as devoted servants for 
the remainder of your life. Together we will 
enter the enchanted valley yonder, and hear what 
the beautiful fairy has to say.” 

They walked on a short distance, and at every 
step their path became more beautiful. There 
were wild flowers growing along its border, and 
sparkling little streams flowed over bright and 
shining pebbles. Rita’s heart grew lighter each 
moment. “Oh, what a pleasure to live!” she 
thought, “I could be happy here forever.” Just 
then they came to a spot more lovely than all the 
rest. In a bower of exquisite beauty sat our old 
friend, the beautiful fairy. “Come hither, my 
dear,” said she, “and tell me all about your jour- 
ney.” “ Oh, I am so happy in this beautiful place,” 
exclaimed Rita, “and in the company of these 
noble little fellows, that I scarcely remember the 
obstacles that I have overcome in my journey 
hither. I feel that I could be happy here forever, 
and yet I know that I have the power to become 
even happier .” 

“You are right, my dear,” said the fairy. “The 
feeling you have that you could be happier, will 
be realized in the coming years. You now have 


THE PRICELESS TREASURE 


47 


possession of four of the most valuable servants. 
With good training they will bring you the perfect 
happiness all mortals long for. This, then, is your 
treasure. You have made yourself the possessor 
of these servants, and have shown yourself to be 
worthy. After you have lived with them a few 
years — for you will go back to your daily labors 
for awhile — you will, by their help, have earned a 
home in our beautiful Fairyland for the remain- 
der of your life. But remember, dear child, that 
these are your servants . You must never let them 
get the mastery , if you would have the happiness 
of which we speak. 

“Now, is not this treasure of more value than a 
great deal of money? Would you, even in your 
poverty, be willing to sell it for gold?” 

“Oh, no indeed! good fairy,” said Rita, “I will 
use these servants of mine in my every-day life, 
even in the selling of my flowers, and I truly 
believe that I shall never again have cause to feel 
as I did on the day you spoke to me on the door- 
step, for I am indeed rich in the possession of so 
priceless a treasure.” 


A PROCESSION 


Let us close our eyes, dear children. 

And take in one grand review 

Of all human pains and passions 

That are met the whole world through. 

Let us note in the procession 
Whether any are our own; 

And if not, perchance there may be 
Some we’d covet, some disown. 

First in line in the procession 
Comes a spirit that we know. 

See him strut along the pathway 
With a measured step and slow! 

In his hand he holds a mirror 
Into which sly glances steal; 

And he keeps himself from others — 

This is “Pride” that some folks feel. 

But he has a younger brother 
That I’m sure we all would love, 

For to do a shameful action 
He would ever be above. 

He will help the very meanest 
By the touching of the hand, 

And would scorn to be dependent 
On the riches of the land. 


48 


A PROCESSION 


49 


Then there comes a gloomy spirit. 

See how slowly drag his feet, 
And how downcast are his features 
As he passes down the street! 
Look ! he has on large blue glasses 
That on all things cast a hue 
That is anything but pleasant, 

Or attractive to the view. 


But, as “Discontent” moves onward, 
Comes a cheery little sprite 
That would fill our lives with sunshine 
And make ev’ry dark place light. 

On her curls there rests a halo. 

And her wings are tipped with gold; 
Ev’ry movement bears her message 
To this old and gloomy world. 


“Cheerfulness,” I think they call her. 
And her partner’s name is “Love.” 
They are often seen together. 

Spirits from the world above. — 
Next there comes a horrid monster 
With such big and searching eyes; 
He is clothed entire in yellow. 

His home cannot be the skies. 


50 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


His companion’s name is “Envy,” 

So we all can guess his own; 
“Jealousy,” I think they call him, 
And he’s never found alone. 

But goes hand in hand with “Envy,” 
Oft with “Malice,” too, is found. 
And quite frequently with “Hatred” 
These companions go around. 


See the one dressed all in scarlet. 

With his wings all tipped with flame! 
Pinched and frightful are his features! 

“Anger,” I should think his name. 
Close behind, there is another. 

Not so dreadful to behold. 

His whole form expresses meekness. 
Nothing in his look is bold. 


He is apt to follow “Anger,” 

As his name will plainly tell, 

And “Humility” is needed 

When the angry passions swell. — 
Then there comes one bright and cheery, 
With a happy, beaming smile, 

And her partner, looking upward, 

Perfect trust shows all the while. 


A PROCESSION 


51 


This is “Hope” and “Faith,” together. 
Always will you find them so. 
Blessings would they be to mortals. 
Could we stop them as they go. 

And their elder brother, “Courage,” 
Manly-looking, tall and strong, 

Has a bearing that is kingly, 

As the spirits march along. 


Here comes one whose tread is cat-like. 
Stealthily he creeps along. 

This is one to make us shudder 
More than any in the throng. 

For if we allow “Deception” 

In our hearts to find a place, 

All the other ills we’ll meet with 
In encounter, face to face. 


Let us cultivate the spirits 

That will make our lives the best. 
And within our hearts, then surely 
Happiness will make her nest. 

And, when cherished as she should be 
She will ever be our guest. 

And she always is attended 
By the spirits that are blest. 


LIFE’S GARDEN 


T HERE was once a beautiful garden situa- 
ted upon the banks of a stream whose 
waters, clear as crystal, reflected the blue 
of the skies, while deep in its bed might be seen 
smooth, white pebbles and dainty shells. There 
were ferns and mosses hidden among the rocks, 
and such a profusion of delicate flowers as made 
the place a perfect paradise. Odors of lilies-of- 
the-valley and jasmine were borne on gentle 
breezes, and to enter this charming garden was 
only possible to those who were pure and good. 
The owner dwelt in a most delightful bower that 
stood in the center of the garden, and before which 
a gorgeous fountain played. The sunlight, as 
it fell upon the spray, produced the most brilliant 
rainbows of color. 

This was the abode of the great fairy, Life, and 
here she gladly welcomed all who had successfully 
passed through the hundreds of gates on the long 
road that lay between her beautiful home and the 
people of the earth. 

Little Bright Eyes had heard of this wonderful 


52 


life’s garden 


53 


spot, and, knowing nothing of the places at which 
she must pause for rest and refreshment, thought 
she would find out for herself whether there really 
was such a delightful haven of rest. She had 
heard of it as the “Land of the Setting Sun,” so, 
supposing that it must lie somewhere in the west, 
she started in that direction. She trusted her 
secret to no one, and made no provision for her 
comfort while on the way, hoping to find places 
along the road at which she might rest and obtain 
sufficient food for her small needs. 

Her first day out was full of promise. Every- 
one whom she met greeted her pleasantly, and she 
felt that it was going to be a happy journey. But 
at sunset she began to look for some place at 
which she might spend the night. She saw ahead 
of her a brilliantly lighted building, and as people 
seemed to be going toward it from all directions, 
she hurried on to see what attraction was within. 

Entering with the crowd, she found herself in 
the center of a large hall in which was spread a 
most bounteous banquet. The hall was filled 
with gaily dressed people, and more were con- 
stantly coming. Catching sight of her little figure, 
one of them cried, “Welcome, stranger! We are 
always glad to have new guests at our banquets. 
This chair is for you; take it, and welcome.” 

Wondering at the hospitality of this strange 


54 BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 

crowd, Bright Eyes seated herself and awaited 
results. Each guest was served in the most ele- 
gant style by a beautiful little cherub. But as 
she lifted the first dainty morsel to her mouth, 
an expression of disgust came over her face. 
One after another she tasted the delicious looking 
dishes, only to remain as hungry as at first, for 
not one morsel could she swallow. All the dainty 
looking viands were but fair deceptions. Nothing 
could be eaten. 

Filled with a loathing and disgust, not unmixed 
with regret at having entered such a place, she 
determined to leave it as soon as possible, when 
lo! all this brilliant display, with its sumptuous 
looking banquet, and its fair guests, vanished 
completely and Bright Eyes found herself in an 
old, deserted building whose only light came from 
a few stray moonbeams which found their way 
through the broken window and fell at her feet. 
Starting up in affright, her first impulse was to flee 
from the spot; but remembering that night was 
now advancing, she concluded to stay where she 
was, and not risk encountering greater dangers. 

Setting out on her journey at the first streak of 
dawn, she looked back at the place she had left, 
and its walls appeared as on the previous night. 
On the outside it was a palace of beauty, and as 
she allowed her eyes to rest upon it, she found 



“THE LITTLE ELF GUIDED HER TO THE DOOR" 




56 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


herself seized with such a strong desire that she 
felt almost compelled to return and re-enter it, 
although she knew it to be but a hollow mockery. 

While she gazed, a little elf appeared at her 
side and begged to be her companion. He told 
her he had come from the house she was leaving, 
and he would serve her most faithfully if only 
allowed the privilege. He also told her she could 
not find entertainment at the next house where 
she would be obliged to stop, unless accompanied 
by a member of the elf family. Feeling that she 
must provide herself with shelter for the coming 
night, she allowed the little fellow to become her 
companion for the day. He was a sprightly little 
elf and was the source of much amusement during 
the day, although when evening came, Bright 
Eyes found her heart filled with a strange con- 
tempt for everything, such as she had never before 
felt in all her sunny little life. She trusted no 
one, and even found herself planning how she, 
too, might mislead people. She could not under- 
stand this change in her heart. 

As the twilight hour drew near, the little elf 
guided her to the door of a building where she 
might obtain a night’s shelter. He seemed to lead 
rather than follow her, although to other eyes 
than hers, he was entirely invisible. This build- 
ing seemed to be a sort of hotel. She first asked 


life’s garden 


57 


to be shown to a room where she might refresh 
herself after her long tramp. Being taken to an 
apartment and left alone, she soon discovered that 
she had again been deceived. She found nothing 
here but appearances. Just as she was about to 
plunge her heated face into a bowl of clear water, 
the water disappeared; and when shown into the 
dining-room, she was as sorely disappointed as on 
the previous evening. And, to add to her misery, 
the ugly little elf would appear at intervals to 
ask how she was enjoying herself. 

Finally the elf came to her in the guise of an 
old man and began to question her about her- 
self. To her utter astonishment, her answers were 
just the opposite from the real facts. So strong 
was the desire to answer in this way, that she 
became frightened and ran out of the house. The 
elf, who seemed to have grown larger and stronger, 
was still at her side. She ran on and on, hoping 
to outrun him, but alas! he tired not, while she 
was almost overcome. Finally, as she became 
exhausted and sank down on the ground, she 
thought she heard music. Nearer and nearer it 
came, till a band of fairies drew near. As they 
approached, the little elf tried to hide himself 
for fear these fairies would see him. When they 
came near enough for her to understand their 
words, she found that this was their song: 


58 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


“ 7 / toward the right , oh, eyes so bright , 

You would direct your feet. 

Avoid a lie as you 'pass by. 

And talk not with deceit.” 

“What can they mean?” thought Bright Eyes. 
“Evidently they were singing to me. At any 
rate, I see now that I did wrong to have any 
conversation with the ugly elf. I must get rid 
of him!” So, seeing that the little elf had fallen 
asleep, she hastened on her way, hoping never 
again to be overtaken by him. 

That night she came to a little wayside tavern, 
where there seemed to be many guests, like her- 
self overtaken by the night. Here she remained 
all night, and was treated so well that she thought 
she might safely accept the guidance of a hand- 
some little fellow who offered to go with her. 
But she had not gone far when she found she was 
wearing a valuable watch that did not belong to 
her, and on her finger was a ring that she could 
tell nothing about. She remembered having put 
these things on before leaving the tavern, but 
could not tell why she had done so. She knew 
they were not her own, and that she had no right 
to keep them. 

They met many people on the way that day, 
and many times did her companion share with 


life’s garden 


59 


her the tempting things which he had taken from 
them. 

With a horror she knew not how to express, 
she found herself possessed with an uncontrollable 
desire to appropriate to herself anything that 
came in her way; not because she needed the 
things she took, nor could she explain why she 
took them, although she shed many bitter tears 
about it. 

Poor Bright Eyes was weeping bitterly when 
she heard the fairies 5 music fall upon her ears. 
As they drew nearer she could distinguish the 
words, and this time they sang: 

“There are houses by the roadside 
That with grief and sin are rife; 

But all these must be avoided 
If one wants to dwell with Life.” 

“Oh, I wonder if I can ever get rid of this 
dreadful companion !’ 5 thought Bright Eyes, “and 
get these horrible desires out of my heart . 55 And 
then she heard the fairies going back, and this 
time they sang: 

Go to a house, oh, Bright Eyes, 

You’ll find on yonder hill; 

And there you’ll find a medicine 
That’s balm for every ill. 

At this a ray of hope entered her poor heart, 
and she ceased her weeping and started in haste 


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BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


to search for the house of which they were singing. 
Taking off the watch and ring she threw them to 
her companion and started to run. Seeing her 
direct her steps toward the hill, he made no 
attempt to follow. 

On reaching the house she was conducted into 
the presence of a little old woman with the most 
searching eyes imaginable — eyes that seemed to 
see into one’s very heart. She gazed at Bright 
Eyes with a fixed stare that made her knees shake 
until she could scarcely stand, and her teeth 
chatter with fear. 

Finally the little old woman spoke: “My girl, 
I can give you a medicine that will heal the 
wounds you have allowed those ugly elves to 
make on your once pure heart, but if you have 
ever seen a scar from a burn or a cut, you will 
know that your poor heart is sadly disfigured. 
Life, who is my daughter, will admit you to the 
beautiful garden after the wounds are healed, 
if you truly regret the scars. But you can not 
expect to become so beautiful as you would other- 
wise have been, at least not for many years, until 
the scars have been covered by good deeds; for 
it is the pure heart that makes the face beautiful.” 

Bright Eyes was so rejoiced to find that she 
might yet enter the garden of Life, that she was 
soon healed of her wounds, and given permission 


life’s garden 


61 


to enter. She was very tenderly received, and no 
doubt after years of living in that beautiful gar- 
den, her heart will become so pure that it will 
shine forth in the beauty of her face, and her scars 
be completely hidden in the glory of a noble life. 


THE MYSTERIOUS CAVE 


T ED had strolled one day rather farther 
than usual from his pleasant home among 
the foothills of the old Rockies, whose 
snow-peaked summits could be discerned for 
miles, plainly traced upon the clear blue sky. 
Finding himself in a region entirely unfamiliar, 
he saw just ahead of him what seemed to be the 
mouth of an immense cave. As it yawned in 
all its blackness, the mystery of its unknown 
depths became so fascinating that he yielded to 
the temptation to enter. In all his boyish fear- 
lessness, he snatched up a branch from which 
he improvised a torch, and was soon lost in the 
darkness of the cavern. 

Scarcely had he gone a rod from where he 
entered, when a faint blue light seemed to dance 
around him. When his eyes became accustomed 
to the dim light, he saw that he was surrounded 
by numbers of little impish-looking creatures, 
each of whom carried a pale, sickly -looking torch. 
One, who seemed to be the commander, inasmuch 
as he carried a long leather thong with which he 


62 


THE MYSTERIOUS CAVE 


63 


reminded them to give him prompt obedience, 
was clothed in black, and his eyes shone like balls 
of fire. “Why do you enter here?” said the 
gnome. “Do you not know that I am the Evil 
Spirit who presides over this realm of darkness, 
and that people do not usually honor us with a 
voluntary visit?” “But why,” said Ted un- 
daunted, “may I not look through this cave 
without your permission?” “Because,” said the 
spirit, “as I told you, I am monarch here, and 
only they who come by my wish can go through 
the cave. However, you look young and inno- 
cent, and I will show you some of my trophies, 
and tell you how they came into my possession, 
after which I think you will return to your earth- 
home a wiser youth.” 

In spite of his spirit of bravery, Ted felt a sense 
of repugnance and loathing for this evil one creep 
over him. But, curiosity having the mastery, he 
allowed himself to be led along. 

Through many a dark passage they traveled, 
till they came into a chamber where the light, 
though still dim, was sufficient to permit Ted to 
see that the walls were hung with curious decora- 
tions, and there were glass cases in which were 
other queer-looking objects. What they were, or 
wherein lay their beauty, Ted was at a loss to 
comprehend. 


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BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


“These/’ said the gnome, “are my treasures. 
Each has its history, and if it will not take too 
much of your time, I should enjoy nothing better 
than to narrate a few of the most interesting to 
you.” 

“I should be only too glad to listen,” said Ted. 
“Very well,” said the gnome, “first look in this 
glass case. This shriveled-up, distorted piece of 
anatomy , is the heart of a millionaire who lives in 
your town . This is one of my hardest earned 
trophies. I first found this man when he was a 
mere youth, not so old as yourself, and by long 
repeated efforts I have at last succeeded in bring- 
ing him to be one of my own people. Oh, it isn’t 
much trouble!” As he said this his face became 
more hideous-looking than ever to Ted, and it 
made his flesh creep to look at him. “Yes,” con- 
tinued the gnome, “well do I remember the first 
time I felt my power over the lad. At that time, 
this heart you now see was as clean as a piece of 
writing paper. He was tempted one day to 
escape a punishment by telling a lie. I sent one 
of my little elves to drop the seed of the lie into 
that great white heart of his, and gave him instruc- 
tions not to leave the lad till it was accomplished. 
So, unseen to him, my messenger was ever with 
him, till at last he yielded. A small thing, you 
say; yes, but look at the scar. It is this deep 


THE MYSTERIOUS CAVE 


65 


one that is so black-looking now. Well, that was 
many years ago, but from that day it was never a 
difficult matter for me to have him lie. That one 
little seed sprang up and multiplied without appar- 
ent effort on my part, until now I very much 
doubt whether he knows when he utters that 
which is foreign to the truth. But that was only 
a beginning. No doubt you have been taught 
that a lie is the beginning of a downfall that leads 
to the lowest depths, and nothing is truer, as I 
can now prove to you. This deeper scar is a 
perjury. It once became necessary for him to 
serve a term in the State’s prison, or swear to a 
lie, and he chose the latter. His career led to 
the death of his wife and a lovely daughter. 
Many a home has he made desolate, and many 
a life a burden, that he might add to his amassed 
riches. But every time he has yielded to one of 
my tempters — for I never let them leave him — 
the scars on his heart have become deeper and 
blacker. In place of this wretched heart that 
we have taken from him, he now carries one that 
is as hard as flint. We will have no more trouble 
with him — he is one of us now. 

“But I should have told you that I have scores 
of little servants here who do my bidding. I am 
not happy myself, and the only pleasure I have 
is bringing the people of the world to my own 


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BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


miserable condition. My mission is to send these 
little tempters to all humanity, and they usually 
take possession of all hearts that they once get 
a strong influence over. They go in all shapes; 
sometimes they are very charming to the senses 
of mortals, and their work is easily accomplished. 
At other times, they labor for years before they 
have any visible effect. And there are hearts over 
which they have despaired of exerting any influ- 
ence. They are the characters with which heaven 
is peopled. I will let you see some of the little 
elves before you go, but they are not visible to the 
eyes of humanity on earth. 

“Here is the heart of a youth about your own 
age,” said he, stepping up to another queer- 
looking case. “The heart we have given him in 
return is only half flint, and may be susceptible 
of influence from some other realm than ours, 
in which case this trophy would be taken from us. 
You see he has scars from repeated lies well 
burned into his heart, and even if other spirits 
should work with him, they could never quite 
undo our work. The scars will ever remain. It 
must seem pitiful to mortals to see even the 
children's hearts in the possession of such spirits, 
but they are the ones we delight to get hold of. 
If we get full possession while they are young, 
we are qiiite sure that our treasure room will 


THE MYSTERIOUS CAVE 


67 


always be filled; for the older they grow, the 
harder it is for the spirits from the land of heaven 
to have any influence, and the easier for us. 

“All of the treasures you see here are trophies 
won by some one of my many little servants. 
They are faithful and earnest workers, and con- 
tinue much longer at their post than the delicate 
little white-winged messenger that comes from 
the other land. Repulsion only makes them 
double their energies, and many are the hearts 
they blacken, and lives they wreck. But now let 
me show you into the room where these little 
servants of mine are at play.” 

So saying, he drew back a curtain, and in the 
center of a dark apartment smouldered a brim- 
stone fire, around the blue blazes of which danced 
myriads of little imps. Calling a very wicked 
looking one to him, the Evil Spirit said, “ This 
is the spirit of a lie . He has a twin brother here, 
‘Deception/ who is much like him, only not quite 
so black.” 

Then he beckoned to another, that was hover- 
ing near, and asked Ted to guess its name. It 
was very black, with the exception of the palms 
of its skinny hands, which were a deep scarlet. 
When it turned its eyes toward one, they seemed 
to emit fire, they were so dreadful. Ted was not 
long in pronouncing it “Crime,” and hideous 


68 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


enough it looked. “We never send this one out,” 
said the Evil One, “till we have paved the way 
with those who are not so fierce, and there is no 
better spirit for paving the way for ‘Crime’ than 
the spirit of a lie.” 

“Oh,” said Ted, “take me to the free air once 
more! I have seen enough. Only let me reach 
the entrance to your cave in safety, and I will 
never again listen to the voice of a tempter.” 
“Be not in too great a hurry, my boy,” said the 
spirit; “do you think I ever intended you to go 
back alone? Already I have commissioned one 
of my most trusty servants to spare no efforts that 
may be necessary to the winning of your heart 
to add to my treasures.” 

“Never,” said Ted, “never will I listen to your 
evil messengers!” “Careful, my friend,” said 
the spirit, “don’t you see that the spirit of ‘Anger’ 
is touching your gentle heart?” 

“Fear not,” said a tiny voice close to his ear, 
“I will help you.” And recognizing the voice of 
“Courage,” that had always been one of his 
strong helpers in laying the foundation stones for 
the strong and noble character that he hoped to 
build, he walked quietly on, till at length he 
found himself once more in the pure, free air of 
his earth home. And oh, how he watched him- 
self ever afterward! What a strong guard he 


THE MYSTERIOUS CAVE 


69 


placed around the doors of his heart! He never 
forgot the lesson learned in that dark and dreadful 
cave, even though the lesson was taught by the 
Sovereign of all evil passion. 


THE MAGIC SPECTACLES 


O NE pleasant afternoon in the month of 
June, when nature was wearing a fine 
new dress, and wreathed in her sweetest 
smile, a young girl, tired of the dingy walls of a 
schoolroom, begged permission to take her book 
out under a large tree that grew not many rods 
from the door. Her book lay open in her lap, 
but her eyes wandered away into space. 

On the page before her was the picture of a 
human eye; in her mind was a thought something 
like this: 

“I wonder what this eye would see, if it could 
be given the power to look upon a human soul 
from its infancy to the time of its flight from this 
earth of ours!” 

In the murmur of the wind among the leaves 
she thought she heard a voice, and, glancing up 
into the branches, she saw a tiny fairy seated among 
the leaves , swaying to and fro in the gentle breeze. 

“My dear child,” said the bright little being, 
“would you really like to have the power that 
you seem to covet?” 


70 


THE MAGIC SPECTACLES 


71 


“Why not?” said the girl. “I would then 
know something of the life that is within me, and 
of which I now know so little.” 

“I can grant your wish for a short time,” 
replied the fairy. “I have a pair of spectacles 
that will enable you to see people’s souls as you 
see their faces. You will be surprised, and 
greatly shocked at some of the things you will 
see; but since it is your desire, and I have it in 
my power to grant it, I will hope that it may be 
a benefit to you. Take the spectacles, and when- 
ever you put them on, you, yourself, shall be 
rendered invisible; but the soul of the person 
upon whom you look, shall be to you an open 
book. When you tire of seeing people without 
the mask of deception, I will meet you at this 
same tree to receive my spectacles, for I am sure 
that you will not care to keep them long.” 

Thus saying, the fairy tossed the girl a spectacle 
case which she put into her pocket and walked 
away. The power of knowing people as they 
really are was now her own. Even the power of 
understanding her own true self had been given 
her! 

That night, as she sat by the cradle of her little 
baby brother, she thought of the spectacles, and 
the chance she might now have of seeing a soul 
that had not long been an inhabitant of this earth. 


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BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


Trembling with excitement, she adjusted them on 
her nose, and gazed long and earnestly into the 
big blue eyes of the little fellow. Deeper and 
deeper she seemed to look until all else was for- 
gotten. 

There she saw what at first sight seemed to be 
a shapeless mass, but which, when scrutinized 
more closely, slowly developed into minute crea- 
tures, each with an individuality peculiar to itself. 
She could not fail to recognize the spirits of Anger, 
Selfishness, Doubt, Deceit, Untruth, Covetousness 
and Avarice. But these were all in a dormant 
state; evidently not one of them had ever pos- 
sessed life. But there were tiny little spirits that 
were all life and motion; these were Happiness, 
Love, Confidence, Faith, Truth, and Sincerity. 
These were all in such constant activity that they 
were peeping out at the dear little fellow’s eyes, 
and playing hide-and-seek with the smiles that 
dimpled his cheeks. 

Delighted at finding the better spirits in full 
possession, the young girl turned with a sigh of 
relief and laid aside her spectacles. As she looked 
upon the little brother in all his baby innocence, 
she hoped that the spirits lying dormant within 
him might never be aroused, but by some means 
be ever kept in a deep and death-like sleep; and 
that the spirits which brought the light to his eye. 



“SHE GAZED LONG AND EARNESTLY INTO THE BIG BLUE EYES OF THE 

LITTLE FELLOW" 




74 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


and the smile to his lip, might be encouraged to 
grow stronger day by day, and gain complete mas- 
tery over the soul that had so recently become 
their home. 

Thinking she would like to try the glasses upon 
some older persons, and remembering that she, 
herself, would become invisible whenever she wore 
them, she slipped the case into her pocket and 
stole out into the street. 

She had not gone far when she saw approaching 
her a well dressed man, with the bearing and 
appearance of a gentleman. He was hurrying 
along, apparently too intent upon business of his 
own to notice anyone he might pass. 

Slipping the spectacles on, she soon had the 
satisfaction of knowing what had made all those 
deep lines around his mouth, and the drawn look 
around his eyes. Tugging at the lines about the 
eyes that gave the countenance its hard look, were 
the spirits of Avarice and Selfishness ; Charity and 
Love were lying prone at the feet of the stronger 
spirits, and Deceit and Covetousness had such 
complete control of the curves and lines about the 
mouth, that the stern, hard look had become fixed, 
and his very smile seemed mechanical. So she 
knew him to be an ordinary man of the world, 
but hoping that all were not so governed by the 
sterner spirits, she passed on. 


THE MAGIC SPECTACLES 


75 


Soon she met a girl somewhat older than her- 
self, evidently on the way to some store or office 
where she was employed. Hastily donning the 
spectacles, she stepped up close to the girl — for she 
was herself invisible — and began her scrutiny. 

What she saw filled her with pity. There were 
the spirits of Cheerfulness, Love, Deception, 
Avarice, Selfishness, and Pride, all struggling for 
the mastery. Pride was growing weak, and 
Cheerfulness had almost given way to the spirits 
of Greed and Deception. The gentle look was 
nearly gone from the sweet face, and the eye was 
taking on a stern, cold look, while the mouth had 
lost that trusting confidence once so natural to 
its expression. 

She began to wonder if the gentler spirits never 
held the mastery over a human soul, when, as if 
in reply to her thought, a dear old couple came 
toward her. The old gentleman was a man of 
perhaps seventy years. His hair was as white as 
the driven snow, and his noble old face was radiant 
with happiness. Deceit, Doubt, Selfishness, and 
Avarice had left no lines there, and, as she gazed 
through the spectacles, she saw that Charity, Love, 
Trust, and Hope had them chained. So long had 
these gentler spirits had the mastery that if the 
baser spirits ever had left a mark, it was com- 
pletely effaced. The old wife at his side was as 


76 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


cheery as he, and one look at her face told the same 
story — the mastery of Love. 

Still farther down the street was a group of 
boys at play. Before they had had time to ob- 
serve her, she had put on the spectacles and 
mingled in the crowd. Scarcely had she time to 
look into the eyes of one little fellow, when, to 
her surprise and disgust, she saw there were 
some very evil spirits within that were becoming 
very active. Even while she looked she heard 
him utter an untruth; and, at the same instant, 
the spirit of Lie seemed to gain wonderful strength 
and vigor, while Truth and Love sank into the 
background in despair. She saw Anger becoming 
so full of life that she at once turned her gaze 
toward an older companion. 

Here she saw not only Anger, but the spirit of 
Crime was beginning to show unmistakable evi- 
dences of life. The gentler spirits had all faded 
away to a mere shadow, and the lines made 
around the eyes, mouth, and nose were so deep, 
and so drawn, that one would instinctively shrink 
back upon beholding such a face. 

Many and many a soul did she read that even- 
ing, and each had let some one spirit assume the 
mastery. Some had made the spirit of Love the 
supreme ruling power, while others had allowed 
one of the evil spirits to gain supremacy. The 


THE MAGIC SPECTACLES 


77 


latter class might be known by the marks upon 
their faces. 

At length the thought came to her that she had 
not examined her own soul, and did not know the 
spirit that was dominant there. She thought that 
by looking into a mirror she might accomplish 
this, so hurrying back to her own home she went 
to her room, and, having made sure that she was 
alone, stood before her mirror in silent contem- 
plation. 

Long and seriously she looked into the depths 
of her own soul. Just what she saw there she 
never told even the fairy ; but certain it is that she 
had a long and serious conversation with the fairy 
afterward, and asked her numerous questions, and 
the advice given her was something like this : 

If she wished to keep the ugly, hard lines out 
of her face, and have there only the beautiful 
curves made by the gentler spirits, she must 
tenderly care for the spirit of Love, and make her 
ruler over the whole domain of the soul. With 
such a queen, the baser spirits would shrink into 
nothingness from very shame, and the lines 
appearing on the face would be so soft and gentle, 
and so pleasing to behold, that the plainest of 
human faces might become like the face of a 
bright spirit from the world above. 

But she thought it well worth the effort; and 


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to-day her face is looked upon as that of an angel, 
and the spirit of Love displayed in all her actions 
calls forth one of like nature in all her companions. 
The baser spirits have so long been under her 
control, that it no longer takes the effort that at 
first was necessary, and Love sits enthroned. 


THE WONDERFUL MAGNET 


O N THE banks of the river Time, in the 
far-away land of Nowhere, stands a most 
wonderful castle. Its walls and turrets 
and arches are built of the magical lodestone, 
and its grounds contain the most beautiful flowers 
and plants; while fountains are playing in the 
sunshine, and tiny water sprites and brilliant 
little fairies are bathing in their waters or dancing 
on their brinks. 

From the beautiful stained-glass windows the 
light of the sun is reflected like thousands of 
valuable gems in the most costly settings. Over 
the arched doorway, blazoned in diamonds, ap- 
pears the name of our castle, but we will not read 
it yet. Let us enter the wide and inviting halls, 
for there is no one to say “Nay,” and everything 
seems to welcome us. 

The doors leading to the different apartments 
are all closed, and above each entrance way is an 
inscription, set in some precious stone. Let us 
try and find what magic will unlock these portals, 
and let us see the mystery within. 


79 


80 


BLOCKS WITH WHICH WE BUILD 


Though it may seem strange, each separate 
doorway has its own path leading away into the 
distance toward the great city. We will make 
ourselves invisible and watch the throngs of 
people who are treading these various pathways, 
and in that way find out all about the attraction 
of this wonderful place. 

It seems to be an unseen power that is pulling 
and hastening these people onward toward the 
castle, whether they are willing or not. Let us 
join the throng at its beginning, from the homes 
and streets of the city, and find out why they 
start on this journey. 

See that little fellow yonder with the bright 
golden curls ! What is such a mere child doing on 
such a path? But there seem to be many such 
at its beginning. The path, at the start, is a mere 
thread. One can scarcely see the tiny footprints 
of those children, as they are imprinted upon the 
turf, and the flowers, that are here and there 
dotted along the border, are like little stars. 
But, playing as they go, these children get farther 
and farther along the pathway; and it becomes 
gradually wider and wider, and the flowers grow 
larger and larger. We will go with them and see 
what the end is ! 

A little farther on, those flowers look like 
beautiful roses; but smell them! No, they have 


THE WONDERFUL MAGNET 


81 


no fragrance. Well, let us pick some of the 
carnations. Why, they are made of paper! But 
these people have grown as they were traveling 
this pathway! They seem to be happy enough, 
and surely everything is beautiful around them. 
The path and flowers and all about them have 
gradually increased in size, and now that we are 
in sight of the castle, we will look at the people 
more closely. 

See how they seem to fear each other! Evi- 
dently, from their bearing toward one another, 
they have not the slightest confidence. No one 
seems to believe anything another says. At last 
they arrive at the castle, and stop before door 
number one. While they are looking at the 
inscription over the door, to see what power has 
brought them hither, let us follow one of the other 
paths. 

We will go back to the city, and start down 
pathway number two. This, like number one, is 
almost lost in its beginning, and is thronged by 
children of all ages. They are playing with 
mirrors, and admiring their pretty faces, now 
and then, by a sly glance. The flowers that grow 
along this pathway are stiff and haughty-looking, 
and very gaudy in color. There are the flaming 
poppy, the haughty dahlia, and the stately sun- 
flower among others. The people seem to hold 


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themselves more and more aloof from their com- 
panions, and as they gather flowers along the 
way, there seems to be a strife for the most gaudy, 
and each one stumbles over the other in his efforts 
to appropriate the best to his own use. 

At length they reach the castle grounds, and to 
turn back seems impossible, even if one should 
so desire, for he is held by an invisible power, 
coming from that magical building. We will 
leave them, as we did the others, standing before 
the door to which their pathway led them, and 
return to the city once more. 

There are many other paths, but let us choose 
the one where those people look so wistful, and 
see what they really desire. This pathway, too, 
is alluring; it is very pleasant to saunter down its 
way, and to hear the singing of the birds in the 
branches overhead, and catch the fragrance of the 
lovely flowers growing on its borders. 

But let us look at the people! They do not 
seem satisfied with their share of this world’s 
goods, but gaze with envious eyes upon their 
neighbors. They even seem to be tempted to 
quarrel with their companions because of this. 

They are watching continually for opportunities 
to appropriate to themselves some of their neigh- 
bors’ treasures. But they, like all we have fol- 
lowed, are hastening onward toward the castle, 


THE WONDERFUL MAGNET 


83 


propelled by some unseen force. Their path ends 
before door number three, and there they halt. 

We might follow paths innumerable, for there 
are so many we could never count them. This 
castle seems large enough to hold the whole world, 
and we have only mentioned a few of the doors. 
But this will give us an idea of the whole structure 
and enable us to judge of its meaning. Each path- 
way is as attractive and alluring as it is possible 
for it to be made. It is easier by far to walk in 
such broad and beautiful ways, than to plod along 
the highways that are outside; and besides, as I 
said before, this castle is built of lodestone — and 
we all know that lodestone has a strong affinity 
for certain substances. There must be something 
in each character that has been attracted to the 
castle that can not resist the power of the magnet. 

But let us return to the castle. As we approach 
we see by the light of the setting sun, as it shines 
on the archway above the entrance gates, the 
word “ Temptation.” And as we approach the 
castle itself we are able to read the name of this 
wonderful building. There, sparkling in diamonds 
that nearly dazzle our eyes, we read the one word, 
“Sin.” We enter the vast hall as before, and by 
our side appears the keeper of the castle with his 
ponderous bunch of keys belonging to the different 
apartments. We pause at door number one, and 


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he waits for us to read the inscription over the 
door, before he unlocks it to admit his prisoners. 
He must get them in as soon as possible, for the 
pathway is already teeming with newcomers who 
will soon be here. 

We look and read in blazing letters: 

“Exaggeration is a step 

That brings one very near; 

Deceit is farther on the way, 

But falsehood endeth here” 

The keeper then opens the door just wide 
enough to admit these people, one at a time, and 
we can see that the opening is only a yawning 
cavity; all is total darkness, and they go down — 
down — we know not where. 

Shuddering at what is in store for those bands 
of gay people on the way, we will pass on to door 
number two. Here again the keeper pauses for 
us to read the inscription above the door, and we 
read: 

“Pride is a flower that grows close by, 

The devil had it sown; 

Who eats its fruit, called Selfishness, 

He counteth for his own.” 

Unlocking the door as before, he admits the 
throng, one by one, to the same dark abyss, and 
closes it behind them, and it fastens with a spring. 


THE WONDERFUL MAGNET 


85 


P assing on to door number three, we read above 
its entrance: 


“He who covets what his brother, 

Or his friend or neighbor hath, 

And who enters here for stealing , 

Comes along the self-same path.” 

Treating the ones who stood at this doorway 
as he had the preceding ones, he again locks the 
door, and leaves us to find our way out, made sick 
at heart by the sights we have just witnessed. 
Not stopping to read the inscriptions over the 
other doors, we hasten away, to try and find some 
way to prevent this multitude from being drawn 
hither. 

As I said, there are materials over which the 
magnet has no power; but these poor characters 
could not have found any such material, or they 
would have been able to resist. Yes, the magnet 
can have no power over pure gold, and the mis- 
take these poor people have made is in using 
anything but pure golden thoughts in the forma- 
tion of their characters. There is so much in 
the world they live in; so many good books to 
read, good thoughts to think, good people to 
associate with, that with care these things might 
be made their own, so that their lives might shine 


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as pure gold, and resist the power of the monstrous 
magnet, “ Sin." 

Would it not be a wise plan for all human 
nature to scatter a few grains of this gold broad- 
cast so there may be more characters repelling 
the magnet, and setting their faces toward a far 
different castle, where the path is made to end in 
the most delightful state of happiness? 


OUR COMPANION 


When a man erects a building, 
Whether cottage, tower, or hall. 
He selects, with greatest caution, 
Best materials for all. 


But how carelessly he fashions 
That which God gives to his care 
Never thinking of the future 
For which life is to prepare. 


Character he seldom thinks of : 

But from birth, he’s building one 
Block by block; a sure foundation 
That can never be undone. 


When he finishes a cottage, 

If it does not please his eye 
He may sell it to his neighbor, 
And may build again, or buy; 


But when character displeases, 
As is apt to be the case; 

In the future he may change it. 
But can not the jpast efface. 


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We may tire of books and pictures. 
And may put them on the shelf : 

But go north, south, east or westward 
We’re accompanied by “self.” 

We are quick to see the frailties 
Of our common brother, man, 

And to offer wise opinions 
Of improvements on his plan; 

But we’re all the while forgetting 
That we have a task within 

That will occupy our moments, 

And protect us, too, from sin. 

We may leave our boon companions. 
Even leave a pleasant home; 

But from “Self,” just as we mold him, 
We can never hope to roam. 

As we fashion, so we keep him 
Till a summons from on high 

Bids us render up our talent 
“To the keeper of the Sky.” 

And, if found “wrapped in a napkin,” 
Still we may not turn aside, 

But with “Self” as a companion 
We shall evermore abide. 

And with such a prospect, surely 
We will fashion him with care. 

For, as here he’s ever with us, 

He’s ourself when we get there . 


THE RAINBOW MYTH 


A S LITTLE barefoot Tom went trudging 
along on the way to school one May 
morning, dinner pail in hand — for Tom 
lived in the country — one of those delightful 
spring showers suddenly gathered, and the big 
drops came down thick and fast on his little bare 
feet. But Tom did not mind it in the least. 
His busy little mind had found something new to 
wonder about this morning. His teacher had 
said that all boys and girls were character builders, 
and as each was his own architect, the kind of a 
structure each one would raise rested entirely 
with himself. 

Now Tom had his good impulses as well as 
many that were very boyish and human. But, 
this morning in particular, he wished very much 
to lay the foundation of what would, in after 
years, develop into a perfect character, such as 
he was now dreaming about. 

All at once the sun in its splendor burst out 
from behind a cloud, and a most beautiful rainbow 
spanned the heavens. Tom thought it the most 


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brilliant one he had ever seen. He remembered 
the story in his reader of a little girl who once 
went in search of the pot of gold hidden at the 
foot of the rainbow, and how grieviously dis- 
appointed she was when she found it ever the 
same distance from her as when she started out. 

Tom sat down on an old log that lay by the road- 
side to enjoy the beauty around him , when, to his 
astonishment, a great white light seemed to be 
coming toward him from the rainbow. It was so 
perfectly white that it dazed his eyes. It came on 
and on till at last it was just above his head, and 
he was able to distinguish the object. It was the 
most dazzlingly beautiful fairy one can imagine. 
The robes seemed made of a filmy cobweb that 
sparkled like diamonds, and on the head was a 
crown that seemed delicate enough to be made of 
the early morning dewdrops, and the large white 
wings were of the finest gauze. In her hand was 
a wand with which she touched Tom, as she said: 

“I am the goddess of the rainbow, and I have 
come to tell you a secret. Truly there is a pot of 
gold at the end of that beautiful bow of promise, 
but it is not the yellow gold that so many of your 
people of the earth spend the best years of their 
lives in searching for, but a gold that can never be 
taken from you: a priceless character, whose end 
and aim is heaven. This is obtained after a long 


THE RAINBOW MYTH 


91 


and fatiguing journey; but instead of being over 
hills and dales, it is through trials, doubts, and 
temptations that are met in one’s everyday life. I 
myself represent the perfect blending of the seven 
colors you see in yonder bow. I have found the 
end of the rainbow, and am so desirous of helping 
my friends upon earth to follow its path, that I 
hasten to some mortal whenever the arch appears 
in the skies. Each color is typical of one of the 
faithful helpers whom I will send you if you desire 
to reach the happy end that I speak of. Each 
will come in her turn, and each must be accepted 
as a guide and faithfully followed, or the end will 
not be perfect. If one color were gone from the 
rainbow, the others would not blend into a perfect 
white light; and if the colors were only absorbed 
and not reflected, the whole would be but a great 
black cloud. 

“Just so the advice and help of my messengers 
must be reflected in your every action, and not 
absorbed in your own heart. Shall I send them to 
you? and will you carefully heed their wishes?” 

“Yes, indeed!” said Tom, “if that is the way to 
get possession of the character I covet, I am will- 
ing to try.” 

“Very well!” said the goddess; “the fairies of 
promise shall appear to you when you are most in 
need of them.” 


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So saying, she vanished, seeming to be dissolved 
in the rainbow; and as it disappeared from view, 
Tom slowly arose and resumed his journey. 

Arriving at the school he was soon engaged in 
the sports of his companions. 

A reward had been offered the pupils of this 
school for punctuality, and at the head of the list 
of names stood Tom’s with no opposition greater 
than that of a delicate little girl who had been but 
five minutes late on one occasion, having been 
detained by an errand for an old cripple. To-day 
the reward was to be given, and Tom knew that 
he would be the lucky one, and he likewise knew 
that the little girl was equally deserving. He was 
troubled just a little about it, but had not thought 
of giving up his right to the coveted reward just 
to please a companion. 

However, as the nine o’clock bell sounded, a 
mist seemed to come before his eyes, and although 
not visible to his companions, he plainly saw a 
delicate little sprite clothed all in violet. In a 
sweet, musical voice, she said: 

“I knew your struggle, Tom; I represent the first 
color in the rainbow. I also represent Unselfish- 
ness, which is just as essential to the upbuilding 
of a perfect character as a violet ray to the perfect 
white light found in a ray of sunlight. I am easier 
to bend aside than my sister virtues, so do not 




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treat my advice lightly. Take me into your life. 
Begin the practice of the virtue I represent by 
making this little girl happy. You will be far 
happier yourself by so doing and I will make my 
home wherever you are.” 

To the surprise and consternation of his com- 
panions, Tom immediately announced his deter- 
mination to relinquish his right to the reward in 
favor of the little girl, and never had he spent a 
happier day. 

On the way home that night, one of his friends 
asked him why he had done this. Not caring 
to explain all of his reasons, for fear of being 
laughed at, Tom was about to reply in a manner 
that would have spoiled his day’s work, when 
before him stood two beautiful little sprites. One 
was dressed all in scarlet, and the other in blue. 
Though plainly visible to Tom, his companion 
saw nothing unusual. Hand in hand danced the 
little sprites before him. 

“I am Sincerity,” said she of the scarlet gown, 
“and this is my twin sister, Truth. We have 
come to keep you from spoiling the foundation of 
which you have to-day laid the first stone. We 
would make our home wherever our sister Unself- 
ishness has found hers." 

“So you shall,” thought Tom, though he said 
nothing aloud, except to reply truthfully and 


THE RAINBOW MYTH 


95 


manfully to his companion. The boy took Tom’s 
hand at parting, and told him he never had 
respected him so highly as at that minute, and 
Tom felt that the second stone was laid in what 
he meant should be the foundation of a noble 
character. 

He strolled along his homeward way, and 
everything looked so delightful to him that he 
joined in the songs of the birds that he felt were 
all for him, and the beautiful green grass and 
bright flowers were his especial delight. All 
nature seemed smiling and his heart was over- 
flowing with love to all humanity. 

As he passed a little spring where he generally 
stopped to drink, a ray of sunshine fell upon a 
drop of water that lay on a leaf, and immediately 
there sprang into life four tiny beings, in form and 
size very much like the others he had seen that 
day. The first was clothed all in green; she it 
was who spoke first. 

“I am come,” she said, “because the little birds 
were singing in your heart, and I knew you were 
ready for me. My name is Cheerfulness.” 

“And I,” said her companion of the yellow 
gown, “am always found where Cheerfulness goes. 
My name is Hope.” 

“Whoever has given a home to these two sisters 
of mine, never refuses me,” said the third, as one 


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clothed all in orange stepped forward. “My 
name is Charity.” 

“I,” said the last one, “as my robe will signify, 
am least easily turned aside of any of my sisters. 
Since you have given a place in your heart to 
them, you can not but accept me; for I naturally 
follow.* He who is unselfish, sincere, truthful, 
hopeful, cheerful, and charitable, can not but love 
his fellow man; and I am Love.” 

Tom felt that his heart was too full to answer. 
The sun seemed to be brighter than ever as it 
sank below the horizon and cast its last lingering 
rays fully upon the spring, rippling over the 
stones. 

The seven little fairies appeared together, each 
in her own peculiar color. So happily did they 
mingle that just before the sun disappeared, they 
merged into each other gradually, till in their 
place, stood the great white goddess Tom had 
seen that morning. 

“Tom,” said she, “you have to-day made a start 
toward the higher life that you have dreamed of. 
If you cherish and nurture the little fairies of 
promise I have to-day let you see, you may at 
last have the satisfaction of having them merged 
together in your own life; and when they are 
perfectly blended, a great white light will lead 
you on, till you reach the end of the rainbow. 


THE RAINBOW MYTH 


97 


But remember, if one of these colors is left out, 
the white light does not appear; and if they are 
absorbed instead of reflected, the results will be 
blackness. Just so will it be with the virtues 
they represent. If you continue the practice of 
all, the white and perfect character you will 
attain will be of priceless worth; but failure in 
one respect, or inability to let your light reflect 
on those who surround you, will create a blackness 
that is not to be desired. 

“Whenever you see the rainbow of promise 
stretched across the sky, think of my promise to 
you, and the golden character that lies at the foot 
of the bow as it stretches even to the very gates 
of Heaven.” 


THE WEB WE WEAVE 


O H, I am so discouraged,” said Nell, as she 
threw her hat on the grass, and herself 
down beside it. “I never was so tired of 
trying to do right. Everybody finds fault with 
me, and I just wish I could go away from them 

all .” Such were the words of little Nell D , 

when she came home from school one night after 
a hard day’s work, and no doubt, much needed 
reproof. 

Nell was never a very contented little girl, and 
this had been one of her most trying days, when 
she felt that the whole world was against her. 

The day was hot and dreamy, and the spot 
upon which she had dropped down so restful and 
attractive, that she soon passed into that delight- 
ful dreamland to which we all so dearly love to go. 
While she slept, numerous beings were hovering 
over her. They were probably the people of her 
dreams; for they seemed, from their conversation, 
to know all about her thoughts, whether sleeping 
or waking. “Let us take her there,” one was 
saying, “she has never seen what life really is, 


THE WEB WE WEAVE 


99 


and of course can not feel about it as you and I 
do.” “Very well,” replied another, “when she 
awakes, we will talk to her about it.” Just then 
Nell began to rub her sleepy eyes and look about 
her. What was her surprise to see these little 
dreamland people still about her, and to hear 
them talking among themselves! “How are 
you, my dear?” said one of the little folks, “we 
know you well, • and if you will take a good look 
at us you will feel equally well acquainted, for we 
have visited your dreams many, many times 
before to-day.” 

When Nell was fully awake, she recognized her 
little friends, and began to be interested in what 
they were saying. The first speaker said: “Yes, 
discontent is a sin. It not only makes us very 
unhappy ourselves, but causes our friends and all 
around us to see life through very blue glasses.” 
“But,” said a happy little sprite, “do not these 
human beings realize, like ourselves, that we are 
only acting the prologue of the play of life in this 
world, and that our real life is something that we 
never yet have seen from the right side ?” “I do 
not know,” said the first speaker, “how much they 
do, or do not realize, but you and I know that each 
of us weaves a web in this life, that is of the most 
delicate texture. The fineness of the fabric, and 
beauty of the pattern, depend upon ourselves. 


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But the right side of our web we may not see until 
it is completed, and whether it is of great beauty, 
depends upon the skill with which we have woven.” 

“Let us take Nell on one of our flying trips, and 
see what the journey will teach her!” So saying, 
the little people passed their wands over Nell’s 
head till that far-away, dreamy look came into her 
eyes, and then they said to her spirit: “Come 
with us! Time, that is years; and distance, that 
is miles to us, are but passing fancies to the human 
race. Leave the body for awhile, and let us show 
you a life that will make yours more easily under- 
stood.” 

“Agreed!” said the spirit of little Nell — and 
away they flew. Over mountain and valley, 
across river and plain they sped, till they came to 
a far-away country on the other side of the sea. 
So lightly and quickly they soared, that it seemed 
as if the gentle summer breezes bore them along. 
Not a word was spoken till they rested upon the 
crest of a little hill far from their native home. 
Looking down into a secluded little valley they 
beheld a small settlement, to which one of the 
tiny party directed their attention. 

“Look! ” said she. “To your right you will see, 
nestling at the foot of the hill, rows of little cot- 
tages. They are the homes of the lace-makers, 
and we are going to-day to see them work. Let 


THE WEB WE WEAVE 


101 


us away, for they are a busy set of people, and we 
must lose no time.” 

Of course, these spirits were not visible to the 
human eye unless they chose to be, and could 
enter and depart at their pleasure, without dis- 
turbing anyone. So they visited the lace-makers 
quietly, and received valuable instruction from 
their careful, patient plodding. 

“ Observe,” said the little guide, “that their 
patterns are ever before them, and that they 
patiently strive to imitate them, thread by thread. 
They do not look at it as a whole, but step by step 
they advance, slowly but surely, toward the per- 
fect end. If one thread is cast amiss, the whole 
fabric is a failure. They must keep their eyes on 
the pattern, and carefully copy it, thread at a 
time, till the whole is finished. The most wonder- 
ful part is — they never see the right side of the 
fabric until it is completed. They must look 
only to getting each tiny thread into its proper 
place, and keep it from getting tangled with others 
no less fine than itself, and trust that, by so doing, 
the right side will be as beautiful and perfect as 
their hearts could desire. Take the lesson home 
with you, little spirit, and let Nell tell you what 
it means. Now we will return before she has had 
time to waken.” Touching the earth with her 
wand, she soared up, up, far out of sight, followed 


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by the others. Soon they were back to little Nell, 
and she began to stir uneasily and murmur in her 
sleep. Opening her great blue eyes, she seemed 
unusually thoughtful for her; and you and I will 
just take a peep at her thoughts and see if they 
will not do us good, too. 

“Yes,” thought she, “our lives are made up of 
very tiny threads that cross and recross each 
other. These are our daily actions ! If we tangle 
the threads, we spoil the whole fabric. If we 
keep them straight, and in their proper places, the 
result will be harmonious and beautiful character. 
We must trust to our pattern, and not fret over 
the appearance of the finished fabric, for our part 
is only to weave thread by thread; and if we do 
this patiently, unceasingly, and without com- 
plaint, using the utmost care that we do not tangle 
our threads, we shall behold a character of most 
beautiful texture when we are given a glimpse of 
the right side; when we have finished the pro- 
logue, and entered upon the real and true life.” 


A THOUGHT 


S EATED one day on the banks of a beautiful 
river, watching the little waves as they 
touched upon the shore, and drifted with 
the current far out toward the sea, I thought- 
how like a human life! The same unseen power 
that lets the little drop of water fall from His 
lavish hand into the mighty river, launches the 
little gem that we call life upon the mighty river, 
Time. The little drop is jostled against its fellow 
drops; pushing, crowding, striving — each for the 
same destination. Many are the rocks that it is 
dashed against, many the stormy winds to be 
breasted, and the strong currents to be turned 
aside! But there are times of peaceful sailing 
upon the great bosom of the mighty river, when 
the stormy days are forgotten, and all seems calm 
and serene. But the little drop must be equally 
fortified against storm and sunshine, to reach in 
safety its final destination — the sea. 

So the little life, but an atom as it jostles and 
hurries and frets along the river Time — crowding 
its myriads of brothers, being hurled against the 


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rocks of disappointment, false friends, blighted 
hopes, and almost wrecked upon some barren 
shore, swept aside by the waves of adversity, and 
breasting the storms of circumstances, is hasten- 
ing onward. Like the drop of water, it must be 
able to withstand the sunshine as well as the 
storm. Both are strengthened, broadened, deep- 
ened, by contact with human nature. Both are 
pressing onward with the same restless longing, 
that will never be satisfied until they reach the 
boundless sea of Time and of Eternity. 











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